


Improvising

by krakens



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krakens/pseuds/krakens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the video diaries end, Gigi and Lydia film an epilogue reenacting Lizzie and Darcy's engagement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvising

In retrospect, Lydia has no idea how she managed to go almost three full years without ever once having a conversation with Darcy’s sister that lasted for more than two minutes. It had seemed so easy while she was doing it, avoiding her and watching her from afar. In fact, before tonight, the only real meaningful interaction she’d ever had with Gigi was when they’d driven to the airport together to pick people up for Bing and Jane’s wedding last August and Gigi had written a tweet the next day describing her as “intensely cool”.

And it’s not that Lydia doesn’t appreciate that description. And it’s not that she’s being purposefully difficult. And it’s not that she doesn’t know full well that talking to people is the only good way to get to know them.

But when Gigi comes over to her at Darcy and Lizzie’s engagement party with a look of champagne-fueled abandon in her eyes and asks Lydia for her help, the very last thing in the world Lydia wants to do is say yes.

“Uhhhhh,” Lydia hedges, glancing down at her champagne flute. “What exactly is it you need help with?”

“A secret project,” Gigi says, hoisting her purse up and gesturing to it as if this explains everything.

Lydia looks at her. Really, critically looks at her. There are so many things Lydia could resent her for – she’s tall, gorgeous, leggy. Lydia has always fixated on the unusual pale green color of her eyes, and how she never has a hair out of place, and how her face is so pretty despite not being quite symmetrical. Her clothes are always fashionable and cute and she’s never seen her wear the same pair of shoes twice. She’s rich. She’s a brilliant artist and a dedicated graduate student and an internationally renowned athlete and a savvy businesswoman all at the age of twenty-three.

Lydia could seriously go on all night; the list of reasons why she could and should resent Gigi is as long as her arm. But she’s never quite had it in her to hate her.  

Even though Gigi’s clearly a little bit tipsy, she still squirms and flushes under Lydia’s gaze after a second. Lydia can’t help but smirk to herself, because Gigi Darcy has made her feel so inadequate so many times that it only makes sense that it feels good to return the favor.

“Secret project, huh?” Lydia asks, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Yeah,” Gigi enthuses, recouping her composure in a half second flat. “I actually only need your help with one little thing but if you want to help with the rest of it, that’s…”

“Let’s start with the little thing,” Lydia suggests. Gigi’s face twists into an expression of consternation.

“It would make more sense if I explained the big thing first,” she says. As if she’s asking Lydia’s permission. As if she needs it. Lydia shrugs and she continues. “Well, I was just thinking, it’s been like years since Lizzie ended her videos. And so much has happened. I was going to make, like, you know…” She shakes her purse again. “An epilogue. But obviously to post it on her account I’d need her password, and that’s where you’d come in.”

 Lydia taps her index finger against the rim of the champagne flute.

“Okay,” she says.

“Great!” Gigi tries to clap but is significantly impeded because of the way she’s holding her purse in one hand. “Do you want to just write it down for me, or?”

“I’ll help you make the video,” Lydia says.

“Oh,” Gigi says, sounding surprised.

“That’s what you were going to ask me to do, right?” Lydia asks.

“It is,” Gigi says. “No, it is. Cool. You’ll help?”

“Yup,” Lydia says. She sets her champagne flute down before she can change her mind. “Where are we going?” she asks after Gigi spends a few seconds awkwardly hovering by Lydia’s table.

“My room,” Gigi decides on. Lydia follows her down the dimly lit hallway and away from the party din.

Gigi’s room is huge and painted mint-green and decorated with awards and certificates and ribbons and trophies. There are years and years worth of the little trinkets in here. Lydia pauses by a corkboard that’s covered in ribbons. There are many for showjumping and dressage, some for swimming and soccer, a handful for spelling and geography bees or science fairs. There are sashes that proclaim she was prom princess and on homecoming court. There’s a cluster of ribbons that are all emblazoned “honor roll”. She even has a perfect attendance award.

“You’re kind of a jack of all trades,” Lydia says.

“Hmm?” Gigi looks up from where she’s setting up her camera. “Oh, yeah,” she says, turning her attention back to the equipment. “Those are mostly from middle school and elementary. Some of them are from high school…” She trails off.

Lydia takes another look around the room: shelves full of Nancy Drew and Babysitters Club books, stuffed animals strewn about the floor along with her decorative throw pillows, everything accented in pastel colors and lace. It looks like she hasn’t redecorated her room since she was eleven or twelve, and for some reason that makes Lydia’s chest ache deep behind her sternum.

“Okay,” Gigi says, sitting down on the edge of her bed in front of the camera. Lydia joins her presently and sits still while Gigi fidgets around with the tripod, trying to get the framing just right. “I didn’t really write a script for this,” she mentions.

“That’s fine,” Lydia says. “Improvisation’s my forte.”

“You might have to teach me,” Gigi says. “Oh!” She stands up very suddenly as she speaks. “I almost forgot.” She picks up her purse and upends it on the bed. Lydia holds back a bark of laughter when she sees what Gigi’s been clutching to her chest all night.

“Did you steal these from our house?” Lydia asks, picking up Lizzie’s checked plaid shirt and Jane’s flower. Somehow she’s managed to find all the costume theater costumes, even though Lydia had been fairly sure they’d been dispersed or lost or disposed of long ago.

“I… uh,” Gigi falters. “No,” she finally decides on. “I was going to put them back.”

“Uh _huh_ ,” Lydia says, handing her the Dad hat. “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

Even though the idea for a video update on everyone’s lives had initially been Gigi’s, Lydia takes point on the directorial process. Gigi is pretty truly awful at costume theater, but she tries her hardest and makes an okay Ricky Collins. Gigi has just finished a way too generous impression of what Caroline’s been up to when Lydia hands her the Bing costume.

“Oh, but Bing isn’t a medical student anymore,” Gigi points out.

“It’ll be fine. It’ll just confuse people if we changed it now.”

Gigi’s lips fall open but she doesn’t say anything. She takes a deep breath before biting her bottom lip, considering something. She worries her lower lip for a moment before pressing her lips together, and whatever brand of lipstick she’s using must be expensive, because its glossy peachy pink color looks none the worse for wear after all of this. “But it’s kind of confusing to—”

“Hang a lampshade on it, if it bothers you,” Lydia shrugs, tearing her gaze away from her mouth. Gigi sets her jaw in determination and doesn’t complain any more.

But even if her Bing impression is any good, Lydia wouldn’t know, because she’s got her chin leaned on Gigi’s shoulder like Jane does with Bing all the time, and her arms wrapped around Gigi’s waist, which is a little bit of a liberty. And maybe it’s because she’s a little tipsy on champagne, but Gigi’s arms are surprisingly muscular given how skinny she is and Lydia is finding that fact to be extremely distracting.

“Was that good?” Gigi asks, fidgeting with the head mirror.

“Yeah, perfect,” Lydia lies, abandoning the flower. “So… Lizzie and Darcy?”

Gigi picks up the newsboy hat and starts to put it on but Lydia stops her.

“Wait,” she says. “I want to be Darcy.”

“What?” Gigi asks.

“I never got to do it,” Lydia explains. “Except that one time I was super hungover. I always wanted to try it.”

Gigi hands over the hat very reluctantly. “I don’t know if I’d be a very good Lizzie.”

“You’ll be great,” Lydia assures her, handing her the plaid shirt. Gigi slips it on over her dress and buttons it up, but only halfway because she’s tall and busty and the shirt doesn’t fit her well.

Lydia gets the bowtie on, and they situate themselves in front of the camera again as Lydia brushes her hair out of her face.

“Okay, ready?” she asks. Gigi nods resolutely even though she still looks a little terrified.

“Lizzie,” Lydia begins in the deepest voice she can manage. She hears Gigi snicker next to her, but she tries to ignore it. “I find everyone at this party entirely intolerable except for you.”

“He wouldn’t _say_ that,” Gigi protests.

“Don’t break character,” Lydia tells her. She purses her lips but gestures that Lydia should go on.

“Since you’re the only person in the world I can stand to be around for more than five minutes,” Lydia continues. Gigi scoffs quietly next to her but doesn’t say anything, so Lydia goes on. “I’ve decided that we should get married.”

Gigi takes a long, slack-jawed pause before she responds, and Lydia thinks for a second they’re going to have to stop the take and then start over. But then Gigi surprises her.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” she asks in Lizzie’s sardonic cadence.

“I thought the idea would go unopposed.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just throw in the towel on the proposal,” Gigi says.

“Are you saying no?”

“No.”

“So you’re saying yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think we should stare soulfully into each other’s eyes for thirty seconds,” Lydia says.

And they make a valiant effort at pantomiming this; Lydia turns to her and stares at her and has to tilt her head a little because they’re sitting very close together and even sitting down Gigi is a little taller than she is. At this very close proximity, Lydia stares into her fascinating slate green eyes and notices she’s quirking one eyebrow, and notices vaguely that she can feel Gigi’s breath come in little slow hot puffs across her cheeks. All this lasts for about five seconds before Gigi’s breath hitches abnormally and she’s overcome by a fit of giggles.

Without anything else to do, Lydia laughs too.

“That was pretty good,” Gigi says after she regains her composure. “Right?”

“It was,” Lydia agrees. She looks back at Gigi, all radiant smiles and laughter, and she can’t deny to herself that for half a second then and another half second just now, she had wondered fleetingly what it would be like to kiss her.

And there will always be a part of her that’s shameless, so instead of ruminating over this or self-introspecting, she reaches over and turns the camera off.

“Hey,” she says, and Gigi looks at her attentively, her eyebrows raised. “Lizzie and Darcy make out, like, all the time.”

Gigi does not respond.

“So I was thinking, we should probably…”

“Oh!”

“I mean, not if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“I…”

“If you are, that’s fine.”

“No, I’m not,” Gigi says very quickly, as if it were all one word. “Yeah, we should probably do that, for the video.” She sits up a little straighter and smooths her skirt out and laces her fingers together in her lap. “So… should we?”

“Yeah,” Lydia says.

Gigi doesn’t make any move, so Lydia takes initiative and leans forward. Their noses bump together, and she pauses for a half second before closing the distance between them. The kiss is close-lipped and chaste, just their mouths slicking against each other for a few brief seconds, but Gigi raises her hand to Lydia’s cheek in that time, running her thumb along Lydia’s cheekbone. Lydia breaks the kiss off first, and draws her head back; Gigi chases after her for a second before realizing what she’s doing and dropping her hand away from Lydia’s face. Her skin burns in the absence of Gigi’s fingertips.

“You forgot to turn the camera on,” Gigi murmurs, pressing her hands to her own cheeks as if that will dispel the deep flush that has settled there.

“I know,” Lydia says. She notes Gigi’s immovable lipstick is still pristine, but there’s a smear of her own lipgloss on her bottom lip. Reflexively, she reaches out and wipes it off with her thumb. Gigi’s mouth falls open, and Lydia’s hand lingers there until Gigi catches her wrist and uses it to pull Lydia back towards her.

Whatever restraint Gigi had been using before, she doesn’t use it now. Her kisses are messy, misplaced; she catches Lydia’s bottom lip between her own one second, tilts her head and kisses the corner of Lydia’s mouth the next. Her hand brushes through Lydia’s hair and knocks the costume hat off her head. Lydia remembers where they are and what they’re doing, then, and tugs the bowtie off her neck roughly. Once she has it off, her hand finds the hem of the plaid shirt, slips underneath it and up Gigi’s back, where her skin is exposed thanks to the cut of her dress. She and Lydia both use their free hands to grapple with the buttons of it, but their movements are uncoordinated and the buttons are small and eventually Gigi untangles her other hand from Lydia’s hair and just pulls the shirt over her head and discards it.

Lydia takes the few seconds that she is disengaged from Gigi’s arms to lay back on the bed. Gigi follows her, bracing her weight against her elbows so that her face is a half foot above Lydia’s and one of her knees is between Lydia’s thighs. She’s smiling, and her eyes sparkle with a kind of unreserved playfulness, a comfort and familiarity that Lydia wouldn’t have expected from the girl she’d always thought of as being so awkward and tactless.

Gigi just stares at her, and under her unadulterated attention Lydia feels a sudden pang of self-doubt, so she pulls her face down towards hers again. Gigi deepens the kiss this time, is all tongue and teeth, her fervor not at all restrained despite the fact that her hands are holding her weight and unavailable. Lydia uses her hands now instead, wraps her arms around her and pulls herself up for a second to get better leverage, then drags her nails lightly along the bare skin of Gigi’s back, holds her waist for second as she gasps against her lips, slides her hands down the smooth fabric of her dress and grasps her hips, pulling her closer. She feels pinned in place by her weight, comfortably trapped by the hard lines of her body, even though there’s still inches of space between them.

Gigi tries and struggles to shift her weight and free her hands, eventually deciding to just flip them over, but she misjudges the amount of bed she has left and sends them both toppling to the floor. They land with a dull thud, and Lydia has to pull a stuffed rabbit out from underneath the small of her back, and in the daze and discomfort they begin to laugh. Gigi has a hard time stopping, even when she reaches out and pulls Lydia flush against her. She kisses her through the laughter, settling into a more languid pace, brushing Lydia’s hair out of their faces as the giggles settle down. They lie side by side for what feels like a very long moment, still kissing, with Gigi’s arm half-flung about Lydia’s shoulders, pressed tightly together from head to toe.

Eventually they still, their noses still brushing together, their breath evening out. Gigi’s hand is still resting on Lydia’s face.

“I’ve always had such a huge crush on you,” Gigi mumbles into Lydia’s neck, and she can feel against her skin that she is still smiling. Even though there is a soft sweet warmth that has been spreading through Lydia’s stomach all this time, this sends a cold jolt through her veins.

She doesn’t know what to say to it – _I don’t like girls_ seems like a baldfaced lie at this point, but _I’ve never thought of you at all, not before just now_ is so personal and would cut so deep. Her thoughts scatter a little further, she thinks _I can’t tell my family about this_ and _what would they say_ and she feels bad for thinking this was all just something fun when clearly it’s something much more important to Gigi.

But she just has no idea what to say.

Gigi notices something is wrong and draws back to look her in the eyes, her brow creasing with worry.

“Lydia?” she whispers. “Are you… is something wrong?” She pushes away from her and props herself up on her elbow, half-sitting up.

“Uh, no,” Lydia says, sitting up and leaning against the bedframe. “I just… you’ve _always_ had a crush on me?”

“Yeah,” Gigi steeples her fingers together, staring at her hands instead of at her. “Since… I don’t know, since you came to visit Lizzie in San Francisco, that first summer. It took me a little while to realize it, though.”

“You never talked to me.”

“I didn’t get a lot of chances, and I was scared to. You were always doing something important, or talking to someone else, and I don’t know. I didn’t know if you’d… want to talk to me.”

Lydia falls silent, wiping her mouth off on the back of her hand as she stares at the camera, still on its tripod by the foot of the bed. There’s a conversation, she knows, that she and Gigi will eventually have to have. She doesn’t want to have it, and she thinks now that maybe that’s part of the reason why she’s been avoiding her all this time. But she doesn’t bring it up.

“You don’t like me,” Gigi eventually concludes very quietly from where she is still laying on her belly, her head propped up on her hands. She’s not looking at Lydia anymore.

“No, I…” Lydia still doesn’t know what to say, though. “I’ve never dated a girl before,” she decides on. Gigi’s gaze flicks back to her very quickly, her expression endearingly optimistic.

“Well, that’s okay,” she says. “I haven’t either.”

“I’m thinking about what Lizzie would say,” Lydia continues, because she knows roughly what her mother and father and Jane and even Mary would say, but even though she knows Lizzie better now than she ever has in her life, she has absolutely no idea how her sister will react to this. She can imagine so many ways it could go wrong. She wonders why she’s even wondering if it would be worth it, wonders how the idea of being with Gigi like that became so important to her so quickly. That will count as a mark against her, in Lizzie’s book. She imagines her saying _where did this all come from_ and _it’s a little sudden, how can you be sure_ and she imagines how those words will sting.

“We don’t have to tell her right now,” Gigi offers, and that makes things a little better.

“But I’ll have to tell her eventually,” Lydia says. “I’ll have to tell everyone, eventually, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t even…” She doesn’t even know what to say to Gigi, right now. She doesn’t even know where to start.

Gigi shifts and reaches out and takes Lydia’s hand from where it was pressed against the pale green carpet. She wraps it in her own. “We can make it up as we go,” she suggest, squeezing her hand. “You can always improvise.”


End file.
